Two Ships
by vodka straight
Summary: What if Clark had never learned to dance from that princess? What if Lois caught him off gaurd in an odd situation and. . .


TWO SHIPS  
  
"I'm tired, and I'm drunk - "   
  
"You're not drunk."  
  
"I'm tired and I'm . . . tipsy?"  
  
Clark nodded solemnly in a joke that portrayed his own fatigue as he let his head bounce up and down with tired little snap; a slurring motion that made him look like he himself might be a bit. . . tipsy, denying the impossibility of that statement.   
  
Lois and Clark sat alone in the dim ball room long after the wisps of party had evaporated into the dark, early hours of the morning, and the party go-ers themselves had flowed out in a slow but steady stream. Now, all that was left of the vital inhabitants was a lonely, four person band who was still playing soft music for one reason; they were paid to entertain for five hours, and they still had a half an hour left, and there was still an audience of two. In fact, the only sign that there had ever been a night-life-in-action in this room was the sticky mess that thinly coated the floors, and the elusive, disagreed, cheap corsage laying forgotten under a table or in a corner.   
  
Lois and Clark were stationed on the far side of the room, both slouching in the chairs they sat it. It hadn't been an especially bad party, and it wasn't cheap or slummy, it was - had been - a black tie charity event that both were attending for a story, and some nasty secrets had been exchanged that neither much liked to think about. The night had been worn away until it was nothing but two, slightly tipsy guests, an attractive woman in a black, rumpled gown, lower lip jutting out in an inadvertent pout, and an equally handsome man in a well-fitted tuxedo, also wrinkled from his slouch.   
  
Lois looked fatigued and world-weary, which as we all know, means much more than tiredness of the body. Her complete appearance was diminished from her usual sparkling vitality and faded dolefully into a tired indigence of the world at large. Clark looked tired and worried for her. He also felt very sorry for her, but there was no way on Earth that he would put her between a rock and a hard place by letting her see that.   
  
Why so glum, chum? Well, Clark had learned that Lois had just recently attained a crisp, new, right-off-the-presses boyfriend, and Lois was just beginning to consider that the before mentioned fact might not be such a great thing after all, as she had, just earlier that evening, watched the before mentioned guy waltz out of this very room with a feather thin, big boobed blonde on his happily offered arm, and him giggling like a drunk school girl. She hadn't let him take notice of her presence the whole evening, and now she was regretting not punching him in the nose on his way out. Let's see how his little slut liked his face after her interference with it! Of course, all though she had spoken no words to affirm it, she had already deliberated and made up her mind to break off the relationship come tomorrow.   
  
At the moment Lois had discovered her boyfriends little backstage act, she had been quiet upset, near tears in fact. But she would not allow herself to cry. No. Too much crying weakens the soul, Lois believed. It dullens the mind. That sounded like something old Ebenezer Scrooge would have said before those three celestial ghosts converted him. Lois had never liked that story. Too damn true in some ways, too damn false in others.  
  
Nope, no use crying over another rotten egg in the crate, Lois thought, and now Lois couldn't help thinking that after all the experiences she'd had with rotten eggs, maybe all the eggs were rotten once you cracked the shell. Of course, Clark had been there, and, just *by* being there, had proven otherwise. How *had* she survived without him?  
  
Well, the events of the evening, in the end, had left both Clark and Lois in a state of suppressed gloom, and they had just sat there as the guests filtered out slowly, and the hosts left, and caterers departed, and since the room was held until two in the morning, they still had a half an hour until the doors were locked now, and they sat alone sipping at their wine in pure silence until Lois had spoken. Neither felt much like moving.   
  
"Okay, then I'm tired, and I'm tipsy, and I want to dance." Lois said slowly, and got up, hand extended to Clark. Clark looked up in astonishment. His eyes flashed to the fours person band, working on a slow waltz at that moment. A small lump formed in his throat as he looked up at Lois. She was alert, she was not slurring, she was standing easily and composed on her two legs with no assistance; she wasn't drunk, and she was only barely tipsy, but if it made her content for him to admit to it, then let her be tipsy. The point was, she was asking him to dance, asking him to dance under her own power and free will even though they were under no pretense, in front of no crowd, and with no one but themselves to entertain. In other, very pleasant words, she just wanted to dance with him.   
  
He looked up at her, her eyes shimmering with life, not necessarily happiness, but vitality and life all the same. Clark had come to learn over time that nothing and no one could crush that eternal vitality that burned in her so constantly. He loved that. And now she wanted him to dance. With her. Right now. He would've really liked to accept. Unfortunately, he was barred from that response. Clark didn't have the slightest idea how to waltz.   
  
Lois was starting to look impatient. She tapped her foot absentmindedly on the hard floor of the ball room and gave her hand a little jolt like lightning had stuck it to make Clark aware of it.   
  
"Come on, farm boy, you do know how to dance, right?" Lois asked this in an almost comical manner, a manner that foresaw an outburst of uncontrollable Lois Laughing if Clark answered negatively. It was as if knowing how to dance was a crucial trait of any half worthy man, and one who didn't have that *essential* knowledge wasn't worth the mud you scrape off your shoes. Lois had a way of making that imprint on people without her own conscious knowledge of it.  
  
For moment, he debated lying and just saying he wasn't in the mood, but then again, if Lois was in the mood, there was no way she would buy that he wasn't. And even if she did, she would probably make him dance with her anyway. Or tease him until he felt it to be an obligation, at least. He decided to just fess up.  
  
"Sorry, Lois, I don't." he said, sitting back into his slouching position. Lois looked at him as though she were about to burst out laughing. And then, just before she did, she reflected on that evening. When she had been so pathetic, almost bursting out into tears (almost) tonight about that sour apple of a boyfriend, Clark surely hadn't laughed. In fact, he had comforted her in his soft, quiet, soothing way, and he had talked to her and even amused her a little, as much as she could be amused, anyway. And she could now see, by the look on his face, that he *expected* her to blow up in his face. To tease him, and put him down, and he *expected* it. That hurt more than knowing her boyfriend had walked out with a blonde bimbo.   
  
So Lois smiled softly without looking at all strained, and, since the simple extension of the hand had so far been ineffective and Clark's eyes were now down cast, she moved her extended hand to grasp his forearm and pulled him up. He gazed up at her in fascinated incredulousness.   
  
"Lois, I told you, I don't know how to dance." he said, and tried to sit back down in his Chair of Shame, but Lois stopped him, holding firmly to his arm.  
  
"Then I guess it's time someone taught you, huh?" she said quietly, with that small, impish, I-know-something-you-don't smile on her face, eyes glistening in roguish, controlled mischief and lips quirked at the ends to form a soft smirk.   
  
Clark stood in amazement until he realized that Lois was practically dragging him to the dance floor. The music that had been all but non-existent to Clark before was now a loud, intimidating beat that seemed complicated and full and hard to comply with. But, yet, for some reason this small, weak (in comparison to him) woman was still dragging him to the dance floor with no real physical objection on his part.   
  
When they reached the center of the floor, Lois smiled up at him again with that smile, but now she seemed a little nervous.   
  
'I've never taught anyone to dance.' her gaze said. 'I've never taught anyone to dance, but I really want to dance with you so I'm gonna give it my damnedest.' it said. 'I've never taught anyone to dance, but I need your arms around me and this is the best way I can think of to do it without just breaking down in tears and begging you to hold me, so I'm gonna try to teach you, okay?' it said. 'Please?' it said.   
  
Clark could read her gaze easily, and he knew that Lois really didn't want to break down in tears and hysteria, and that it really wouldn't be fair to make her. He also knew that if he said he wouldn't let her teach him now, it would be just another rejection in her mind. She didn't need that. Clark wasn't entirely sure she could *stand* that tonight.   
  
The silence was so thick you could have cut it with a knife. It swam down their throats and made both of their stomachs turn. It clenched the whole room except for that seemingly blaring waltz music coming from that lonely little four person band, who seemed immune to everything anyway. Then, again, for the third time, Lois held out one, delicate, pleading hand to her partner; her partner standing there in that great tuxedo, looking like no man should be aloud to look, and Lois silently begged him to take it. She looked up at him with the pretense of a woman with the single intention of getting to dance, but she didn't hold for one second the pretense that he couldn't see right through that.   
  
Clark stood for a moment, and then took her hand. Lois smiled. Clark smiled back. Nervously.   
  
"Okay, now, put your arm around my waist, like that." Lois took Clarks arm behind her back and around her slim waist and Clark felt all the blood go rushing to his head. "And take my other hand like this." she grasped his hand and held it out with hers and Clark's breath caught in his throat and he found it impossible to breathe it out again. Oh well, this couldn't last more than twenty minutes.   
  
"And then, you just," Lois looked down and started to waltz slowly in a square, letting him follow where she led. Step to the front, he matched her, stepped to the side, he matched her, stepped to the back, he matched her. Step, match, step, match. . . There was a few hundred glitches, and he continuously stepped on her feet, but he was defiantly catching on. "One, two, three, one, two, three, one two three yeah!" Lois laughed, giddily happy for no reason at all, both of them still watching their feet move across the hard dance floor, neither giving a damn if they were moving to the music. "Now, you lead, Clark, take us where ever you like." Lois said, and looked up at Clark. She expected a question. She expected him to ask what she meant or where he was supposed to move or how, but he didn't. Very suddenly, Lois felt Clark begin to lead her.   
  
They waltzed with increasing grace and speed across and around the room, music finally starting to fit into their steps and both of them finally gaining the courage and skill to look up at each other. It took Lois a moment to realize she was laughing, still giddy with the thrill of - the thrill of what? Teaching her partner to waltz? Damn right! Lois had no idea why, but she was having a spectacular time tonight, even after the horrible disaster that the evening had gotten off to.   
  
Clark as well found himself laughing, but he knew exactly why. He was holding the woman he loved, and not because she was coming out of a near death experience, not because he was flying her to safe place, not even because he was wearing The Suit, but because she was dancing with him. That was plenty enough to make him laugh. He was to happy to do anything else.  
  
Lois and Clark danced for the next half an hour, neither one conscious enough of themselves to notice how tired their bodies were. Then, the band stopped, and the music was gone, and they finally started to become aware of their surroundings. Their laughing stilled, and they stopped dancing and they stood there, Clark's arm still around Lois's waist, Lois's hand still clinging to Clark's, their temporary perfect utopia shattered by the moment, and both of them desperately clinging to the last shreds of it as it drifted ever faster out of reach. Eventually, it was so evaporated that both let go of each other slowly.   
  
Once again, silence ruled.   
  
"Thank you." Clark said, eyes locked with hers.   
  
"Your welcome." Lois replied, not breaking the gaze.   
  
But this time there was no perfect moment, no music off camera, no magic touch of hands, and no flawless, deep, passionate kiss. A man from the band who was packing up came by with a big bass and asked Lois and Clark to move so that he could get through. Bread and butter. They snapped out of the little spell and split apart, letting the man through.   
  
"Well," Lois said, once the man was by them. "I had a good time, Clark." Clark nodded, replied that he did too, and started to move as though to dismiss Lois's statement as plain and knee-jerk courtesy, and, considering the other events of the night, it was an understandable assumption. But then Lois reached out and stopped him in mid-pivot. She looked him in the eye with genuine gratitude. "Clark," said softly but firmly to bring his attention to her seriousness. "I had a good time." she said, as though to make the statement stick.   
  
Clark looked back at her, understanding finally that she really meant it, and, although she was still to proud to say it, these few words meant that Lois had a good time not in spite of her boyfriend trouble, but *because* of Clark being there to help her with it. He nodded again, and smiled softly at her.   
  
"Okay, Lois." Clark said, speaking low and in a loving tone that, despite himself, he could not conceal. There was a silence that coated them both thoroughly, and then a man came up behind Lois and tapped her on the shoulder.  
  
"Excuse me, miss, sir? You guys have to go, this place wasn't rented for any later then two, and it's like two oh five, ya know?" The dirty, sooty man asked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Lois gave a start, and, somehow, forgot to be rude right back to this man. She realized she still had her hand on his arm. She quickly retracted it.   
  
"I'll. . . um. . . I'll see you tomorrow at the Planet, then?" Lois asked awkwardly, biting her lower lip and backing up one step, as though to create both physical and emotional distance and divert the tension that was more than evident just a few seconds ago.   
  
"Uh, yeah! I mean. . . of course, I'll be there. Um. . . I'll see you, then." Clark answered, wringing his mental hands.   
  
"Yeah. Um. . . it's late, I'd better get home. Good night, Clark." Lois said, backing away and turning around.   
  
"Right. Good night, Lois. You want me to walk you to your car?" he asked.  
  
"No! I mean. . . no thanks, Clark, I'll be fine." And then she was gone. Lois was afraid of letting Clark walk her to her car. She was feeling things she didn't think she should feel for her best friend and partner, and she thought the farther the distance between them and the less chance of her saying something she would regret to him, the better, and right now, she couldn't think of anything she could say that she *wouldn't* regret. So, she speed walked out of the room and to her car, leaving Clark standing there.  
  
Well, he eventually snapped out of his trance to, taking Lois's speedy exist to mean that he had gotten to close tonight, and she regretted letting him get that close. Well, it was all for the best. If he was with her much longer, he was afraid that the feelings running through him like blood beating through his veins might overcome him and make him say something he'd regret. In fact, he couldn't think of anything to say to Lois right now that he *wouldn't* regret.   
  
So, he headed home by air that night, alone, just as Lois had, neither prepared to take responsibility for their feelings, neither prepared to completely forget their presence.  
  
Two ships passing in the night.   
  



End file.
